


What do you want

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [37]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hell's Kitchen Cronicles, NSFW, Romance, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, but it's more on the smutty side, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7887985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr promt: Karen accidentaly discovers Frank has a hair pulling kink. She sees an opportunity, she seizes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What do you want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carrythesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrythesky/gifts).



Karen wondered if she’ll ever get used to seeing so much blood. 

It’s not like she’s new to it. It hadn’t been that long since she moved to New York, and she’s pretty sure she has been more kidnapped, threatened and hurt than the average citizen. There was no doubt in her mind that she, who was not a medical professional, had seem more bodies and faces beaten to a purple pulp than most. And, even before New York, her record wasn’t the most pristine. 

Still. Every time Frank walked in limping, or with his face swollen, his clothes stained red, she would shudder. 

She could do stitches now. Both Frank and Matt already doned a few of her sets on them. She was not as neat as Claire, not even close, but she was getting better. 

“Whisky helps”, Matt had said, “with the shaking.” That’s why there was a bottle sitting on the sink of her bathroom while she tried to see through Frank’s eyebrow. 

“Well, at least this one won’t show”, she said, more than a little pissed.  

“Yeah”, he said, sitting on the edge of the tub, face tilted up towards her. “You know you don’t have to dig that deep, right?”

She huffed out a breath. 

“It’s a cut under your eyebrow. I can barely see what I’m doing. I’m not a nurse. You told me tonight was supposed to be quiet, I was-”

“Ok, ok, hey. Sorry”, he said, in that voice he used when he wanted to soothe her. And, as much as she liked that voice, she didn’t want to be soothed. She wanted not to have to sew his face. 

“Take a sip of the whisky”, she said, short, and he did. Reached his arm to pick the bottle up and take it to his mouth. 

When he tipped his face down, to clean a drop that had leaked down his chin, Karen, still more than a little irritated, pulled on his hair lightly to angle his face up. 

“Up, Frank, I need the light.”

His reaction was funny. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, letting it out slowly, scrunching his nose that way he did when he drank coffee, groaning softly. 

Karen doubted it had hurt. She didn’t pull it that hard.

“Keep still.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His voice was different. But maybe that was the whisky. 

She went back to work. 

After two more stitches, she breathed out. 

“Just one more, I think.”

“Good.”

And then he lowered his head again, right when she pierced his skin with the small needle. 

“Frank!” she let out, pulling on his hair again to keep his head still. “Come on, do you want me to pierce your eye?”

“Hmm, no ma’am”, he said, his hand now holding her thigh, just under her butt, fingers pressing. 

Karen focused on his eyebrow, but she could see his expression. His eyes were wandering around her face, he kept setting his jaw. It was that look that made her want to squirm. 

But she didn’t. Instead, she set her shoulders, rolled her neck a little and focused on the last stitch, where she had to tie that small knot. 

Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, he tilted his head back down, creating a shadow she didn’t need. 

“Frank, I swear to Christ”, she said through her teeth, pulling on his hair again, a little harder this time, keeping her hands tight on the short strands, securing his head in place. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll undo all this and you’ll have to do it alone.”

His eyes closed this time, he scrunched his nose again, sucking in a hard, shallow breath, his tongue poking out to slide against his lower lip, just like…

...Just like when he was in the mood for her.

Karen frowned when his other hand set the bottle on the floor and reached for her other leg, pulling her to him. 

“Be quiet”, she told him, watching his face, feeling how his hands would run up and down, pressing.

“Ok. Sorry, ma’am.”

After the months they spent together, she was learning to recognize his signs. To know his looks and moves, to interpret his silence, to talk without speaking. And his faces. His private faces, how he would move slower when he wanted her, or the face he would make when he was stopping himself. There were two of those: the one he admitted was there, that he made when he was trying to breathe through the rage, through the red that he saw, his trigger finger nervous. 

And there was the one that he said she was making up, but she knew she wasn’t. The expression that told her he was holding back, maybe thinking it was too much for her. He would deny it every time (“As if I could do that with you”), tell her she should be enjoying herself and not trying to read his face. 

But Karen knew. Even though he knew damn well she was no delicate flower, he still thought he was no good for her. Still thought he was a monster and she was a princess. So he held back. She knew it and she has been trying to figure out how to make him stop. 

And, judging by his reaction to the little tugs on his hair… Maybe… 

“You told me”, she resumed, taking her time with that last knot, “that tonight was going to be quiet. Up.” She yanked on his hair again, a little harder this time, to cut the thread, and had to contain a smile when he groaned and she felt his blunt nails on the back of her thighs. “You told me you would make me dinner, because I was stressed and you wanted me to relax. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was practically melting, his face tilted up, and she bent a knee over his thigh, dabbing a cotton with antiseptic on the wound. 

“Instead, you decided to go brawling with petty thieves. And, God only knows how, he managed to split you eyebrow open. I said up.”

He was doing it on purpose, she was so sure. Bowing his head only so she would yank on his hair again. And she was more than happy to oblige, if that’s what it’s gonna take to make him let go of his own restraints. 

“Explain to me how am I supposed to relax while stitching you up.”

He opened his eyes and, oh. There he is. 

Frank drew in a breath, hands running up to her hips, under the shorts she was wearing. He watched her with heavy lids, that jaw working, like he was biting on the inside of his lower lip. 

“Do you think I like it when you get here with your face cut open?”

One of these days, she would try and meditate a little. Maybe gain more control over her own body because it’s not fair that he can make her all hot just by looking at her. 

“Answer me”, she said, tugging, and he rolled his eyes shut, grunting again. 

“No, ma’am.”

“‘Yes, ma’am, ‘no, ma’am’. Is this your version of sweet talk?” she asked, running one of her make up wipes on his temple, now, trying to get rid of the blood. 

“Just trying not to piss you off, ma’am”, he said, the jerk, with that side smile of his that always, it always made her legs go weak. 

“Too late for that.” 

With a hand on his shoulder, Karen sat on top of him, her feet inside the bathtub, toes on the wet floor. Looking in his eyes for a second, she gave in and leaned to place a small, slow kiss on his lips, but he opened up, poking his tongue out, but not trying to take control. 

She reminded herself to be careful, otherwise she would be distracted and lose track of her new discovery. And she liked her new discovery. She wanted to have fun with it. With him. 

Frank would tell her, sometimes, that she had the power to distract him. And she was not afraid to wield that power, not a bit. Running her tongue on his lower lip, she ran her fingers on his hair - longer, now, it hid the scars on his skull -, feeling for a spot where she’d have more grip. When she found it, she yanked again, this time up, making his face tip down and to the right. 

“What about my dinner?” she asked, wiping the side of his face slowly, bunching the wipe up, throwing it on the trash bin before picking up a new one. 

“What do you feel like having?” he asked, and she could feel him stiffen up under her, hands on her, heavy, gripping, and he’s trying not to take control, he’s trying so hard, she loves this feeling.

“Hmm. What was that thing you made, that time?”   


“Which time?”

Christ, that voice of his, so low, so rough, it was always so easy to surrender to it, she always felt so good when she did. 

But she knew she could feel better. He could feel better, they could be better, if he let go of that last little thing holding him back. 

“That time”, she said, casually, guiding his face by his hair and she could tell he liked it, he liked it a lot. “When it was raining, really hard, and you came just to say hi, but you stayed for three days, remember? Because it was raining too much…”

“You kept asking me to stay”, he completed, turning his face to hers, grinding her hips down to his with his hands, she felt heat shooting through her arms and legs. “Just because you know I have trouble saying no to you, when you look at me like that, with those big impossible blue eyes o’yours.”  

She smiled at him sweetly, for a moment, and then she nodded to her right, indicating him to to the same. 

“Turn, let me finish this.”

He kept looking at her, like it was a challenge. 

“ _ Turn,  _ Frank”, and here she tugged again, her heart beating faster when he huffed out a breath and brought her sharply against him, almost like a reflex. “Anyway. That thing, it was chicken, I think, you roasted it, and there was cheese, and some sort of spice…”

He chuckled against her neck, mouth open on her skin, pulling on the waistline of her shorts, raising his hand on her back, under her shirt. 

“There’s nothing special about that, ma’am.”

“Yes, there is. We ate in bed, remember?”

“Hmm, yeah.”

That’s practically all they did those three days. Food and sex. Great food, amazing sex. 

“You were my plate”. 

Smiling, she finished rubbing the last of the blood of his face.

“You were mine.”

Throwing the wipe towards the bin, not really caring where it landed, she placed slow kisses on his cheek, in front of his ear, dragging her lips, teasing with her teeth, breathing against him. He was already so solid under her and she ran her free hand down his neck. 

“Take this off, it’s all bloodied.”

He pulled the shirt off himself and she kissed him when he set it down. After a few seconds, though, after she made sure to build up a bit or urgency, she pulled his hair down again, making him moan, dropping her lips to his chin, his neck, biting and sucking and licking. He was already full of purple bruises, what’s another one?

“Do you like that, Frank?” she asked. 

“You know I do”, he said, his throat vibrating on her lips. 

“Not that”, she said, moving to another spot, pulling on his hair again to illustrate what she meant. “This.”

He kept quiet, but his hands squeezed her, pulling her down on him, and she lifted one leg, locking it around him. 

“Hmm? You like this, don’t you?”

Using both hands, she pulled hard, making him look up. 

“Jesus, fuck, holy shit”, he let out and Karen’s breath came a little harder, because she had never seen him lose control with her. He was always good, always fantastic, but he was always the boss, always had a grip of himself, she could tell. She wanted him to let go, to surrender to her, like she had to him, all those months ago. 

“Is this what it’s gonna take, hmm?” she asked, mouth on his collarbone, hands full of his hair, pulling here and there, nails scratching his scalp, going back up, tugging, loving the effect, she was  _ loving  _ he effect it had on him. “Is this the thing that’s gonna make you let go?”

“Fuck, you need to stop that”, he breathed out, hand inside her shorts, gripping the flesh of her ass hard. 

“No, I don’t want to stop”, she said, coming back to his mouth, dropping one hand to undo his belt and unfasten his pants. “You like this, don’t you? You like it and I want to make you feel good.”

She pulled again and realized how much this excited her. To see his face twist in pure pleasure like that, his eyes closed and his mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Karen…” he breathed, and yes. It was final: he could bring her to the edge of pleasure just with his voice. 

“Tell me you like it, Frank.”

Stubborn by nature, Frank Castle. Right then, he closed his mouth again and breathed hard through his nose, refusing. 

“Is it just… When I do it to you?” she asked, kissing him and taking her legs from around him, slowly sliding down, running her lips on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, letting go of his hair to run her hands on the hard planes of him. “Or do you like to do it to me, too?”

She knelt down in front of him, making deliberate slow work on his pants, looking up at him, watching as he watched her, his breathing coming hard, through his mouth. 

“Hmm? Because you can, if you want”. She said, picking one of his hands up - they were both gripping the edge of the tub hard -, kissing his palm, teasing it with the very tip of her tongue, and placing it on her neck, where her hair gathered. “I want to do everything that makes you feel good, Frank.” 

She kissed his stomach, building up the tension, and he moved his hand to her cheek, caressing, thumb pulling on her lower lip once before his fingers ran over her ear and she dropped her eyes from his, feeling that fire simmering in the pit of her stomach, spreading warmth through her. Raising one hand on his chest, dragging her nails on his skin, just to hear him hissing, she gripped him with the other and closed her mouth around him, working her lips and tongue like she knew he liked and he let out a loud moan.

“Oh, fucking hell”, he cursed, closing his fingers on her hair, pulling on the roots, but not moving, just following her motions, but she wanted more than that.

Moving to spread her knees a bit further apart, she breathed, eyes down, and dug her nails into the skin of his chest, hard enough to burn. 

“Shit, Karen!”, he exclaimed and, oh, yes, tightened his grip on her hair, using both hands, now, guiding her, making her move like he wanted and she moaned around him, both hands on his chest, on his waist, eyes closed while she tried to accommodate all of him - Frank is a big, big boy. 

The sounds he was making could have driven her over the edge, and Karen tried to show him how much she was enjoying herself, moving her head like this and that, her tongue never stopping, running her lips down the length of him when she had to stop to breath properly. 

Suddenly, Frank pulled hard on her hair, making her gasp, pulling her up by her arm. When they were both standing up, he pulled down, making her look up to the ceiling, like she had done with him and she moaned out loud, because, finally, he was lose. 

“You trying to kill  me, woman?” he asked, walking further, making her take steps back, out of the bathroom. “Huh? That what you trying to do?”

“Hmm, no”, she said, her skin alive when he returned the hickey she had given him. 

“You trying to drive me insane, then? That it?”

She smiled when he threw her on the bed, biting her lip, catching his eye. 

“Maybe a little bit.”

Kicking his pants off, he unbuttoned her shorts and yanked them down her legs, underwear and all. 

“Well, kudos”, he said, gripping her wrist and making her stand up again, lifting her top from her. “You did it.”

When she was standing naked in front of him, he dove in and kissed her again, and she wondered how he managed to convey so much adoration even when he was being so brute. 

“Why you had to do that, hmm?” he asked, hands full of her, her breasts, her hair, her ass. “I’ve been trying to be good for you, but you had to look for it, didn’t ya?”

Before she could wrap her arms around him, he turned her around and touched his chest to her back, pushing her on to the mattress, making her kneel on the bed, guiding her until she faced the headboard. 

“You are good to me”, she breathed, molding her body to his, feeling his right hand running down her belly, fingers grazing her thigh, the other caressing on her hair like he had done so many times, but the pad of his fingers would run on her skull and she could feel him trying not to grip, at least not yet. “But I want all of you. All of you, Frank, I want it all.”

When he did pull, she rested her head on his shoulder, arching her back, his right hand rising to close around her breast, apparently unable to decide if he wanted to tease or caress, switching between both. He made her move her face to the side, where he caught her mouth with his, adoring, like always, like she loved, like she needed, like he knew it worked. His hand left her breast and slid down while the other changed it’s place, let go of the section of hair he had been holding, to adjust, to catch another, to move her head on him and she liked this. She could work with this, it already felt incredible. 

“How do you do this?” he asked, almost a growl, on her ear, guiding her hips to his, angling her, caressing her hair, running the long strands around his fingers, hand moving on her chin, on the length of her neck, closing around the base for a moment before going back around, resuming the thing that pleased him the most. “You make me lose it, ma’am.”

“Good”, she said, reaching in front of her to brace herself on the headboard, her head still on his shoulder, and she turned her face into his neck, licking, biting, kissing, letting out a loud cry when he aligned himself with her, sliding in slow, too slow. 

“What you do to me, Karen, shit”, he breathed, not taking her face from his neck. She knew he liked that, he always liked that and she loved to feel him, every part of him was so strong, he was all strength, all taut and lean muscle, his body made hers react deliciously, she adored this, when he molded himself around her. 

“I just want to make you feel good”, she said, moving her hips against him, that rhythm that was theirs, the pattern they had learn a long time ago, following each other. His hands were warm on her skin, both of them, they glided and felt, calmed her skin and made her burn at the same time. 

“You do, beautiful, you always do”, he breathed on her neck, circling her waist with his arm, pushing in and out, still slow, she was simmering. 

“Then let go, let me have you”, she asked, raising her hand to close around his hair again, pulling his head so he would kiss her. 

It was like a switch, or a trigger. He growled inside her mouth and, suddenly, it shifted, it changed. He leaned forward to brace one hand against the wall behind the headboard, pulling on her hair hard, the top of her head against his collarbone, her back arched, a heavy hand on her hip, and he drove into her, once, twice, three, four times, grunting and she was screaming, crying out, fingers tight on the iron rods of her bed. 

“This what you want, huh?”

There were stars dancing in front of her eyes and her fingertips were tingling, she had her toes curled tight. 

“It is, yeah? This is what you want.”

Her yes came strangled, squeezed between their lips, hard, indecent kisses while he kept that pace, so hard, so intense, his body massive against her, all that hardness with just an edge of softness just to make her tremble, just to drive her crazy. 

When the hand on her head let go and moved to attach itself to her breast, the other one still on the wall, she raised both of hers and closed her fingers on his hair, keeping his head against the side of her face, listening to his grunts, the growls that made him sound like an animal right there on her ear, rhythmic, and her throat was dry, she tried to swallow some saliva, but it wasn’t enough. Still, she tried to move with him, because this was the best she had ever felt. It was always good with him, amazing, but this was something else. 

This was him, all of him, like she had wanted. 

Karen tugged again, not even thinking about it, it was not deliberate, she was just guiding his mouth to that spot on her neck she liked. It had escaped her mind, for a second, what it did to him, and, for a fleeting moment, she was stunned when he reacted. She thought he couldn’t go any harder. 

“Oh God, Frank, don’t- ah!”

“Don’t what?” he asked, voice strained, hand tightening on her breast  to the point of pain for a second, almost halting, but not really. 

“Don’t - don’t stop, don’t stop”, she urged, moving her hips to kick him into gear again, because he thought she was telling him to stop and she loved him for it, that he was willing to stop it, even if she could feel he was way past that. 

As if relieved, he sped up again, tongue and lips on the curve of her jaw and Karen would blush later, when she remembered all the noises she was making, screaming and meowing her pleasure, her fingers tight on the short strands of his hair, her legs shaking, that fire consuming her while he moved like a tidal wave inside and against her, all consuming, making her lose herself, she was spinning, everything was spinning, she couldn’t breath for a moment while he moved hard,  _ so hard against her,  _ yes, yes, yes, she could distantly hear her own voice while an universe exploded behind her eyes and within her when he hit that spot, over and over again, nice and hard. 

“That’s it, baby, let go for me”, he urged, and she did. Once. Twice. Three times, because he kept moving, he didn’t stop, she thought he was never going to stop, she never wanted him to. He kept going and she kept rising and falling.

One more time and she had fallen so hard, for what felt like the longest time, she didn’t even feel the mattress dip under her. Suddenly, she was lying down, Frank’s heavy weight on top of her, his head on her breast, and all she could hear was their breathing, she felt shocks when he lifted his hand to stroke her arm. 

“Oh my God”, she breathed out, a hand on his back, a shaky leg lifting to settle around his hip. “Frank… I’m dizzy”, she said and felt his chuckle rumble against her. 

“That’s your own fault”, he said against her breast and she shivered when his warm breath ghosted over her sensitive skin. 

They lied there for minutes. Her hands were not tugging on his hair anymore, just running lazily, feeling it around her fingers while their breathing went back to normal. 

When she was not so warm anymore and the breeze coming from the little crack she had left on the window actually made her a bit cold, he moved up, looking down at her face, looking like she felt: bone deep satisfied. 

“You gonna kill me one o’these days”, he said, kissing her slowly.

She kissed him back and smiled up at him when he lifted his face again. 

“Go make my dinner”, she said,a hand caressing his cheek. “I’m starving”

Frank kissed her again, laughing, and she adores that sound. She swears she gains a few points in heaven whenever she manages to make the Punisher laugh. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wrapped up in her blankets, she watched as he moved around her kitchen in his briefs shorts. He made her dinner, but he brought her a tall glass of water first. She drank it all, realizing just then how parched she was, and kissed him deep before he left again. 

They ate cheesy pasta, naked, lazy, hands wandering, her nose nuzzling his neck, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip, his heavy arm trapping her against him when they fell asleep. 

In the morning, Karen bit her lip, smiling when the imprint of him made itself known on different parts of her.  

Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Words are love (and fuel). Drop me some.


End file.
